A poem on a visit to Auschwitz


Exhibitions


Then I came to this exhibition
Exhibition not of artifacts or objects
But of man, the common artifact of our days
Laid there for me to see, touch with my eyes
Here, what I saw was myself, it was not history
Not memory codified in objects
But me, exposed before curious eyes,
I, there before them, exhibited for them
No one leaves Auschwitz intact.




Poetry by Gilbert Shang Ndi
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Written on 2016-06-07 at 19:35

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Kathy Lockhart
Dearest Poet, You have brought me to a place of stunned silence. These profound lines have written so much without limiting the exhibition to the writers interpretation, but to the reader. By doing so, all doors are open, all is exposed. My heart hurts. My mind is scrambled. My soul prays for salvation of this world's lost. Oh, that hate would die and love would grow in those ashes of Auschwitz.
2016-06-09